Manifestly as it had been Providence that had
thus revealed to us the general sphere of my future activities,
it was no less clearly the same beneficent Agency that
determined their actual channel; and it has always seemed to me
peculiarly appropriate that the particular enterprise with which
I was to be first connected should have been suggested to my
father during the process of family prayers.

This took place, according to our usual custom, immediately
after the conclusion of our evening meal, and consisted of the
singing by my father and myself of two or three hymns or sacred
choruses, followed by the reading on the part of my father of a
chapter of Holy Scripture, the whole being concluded by one of
those extemporary prayers in the composition of which my father
was so skilled. For the purposes of the Scripture reading the
volume generally used was a large Bible inherited by my father,
but on the evening in question, owing to an accident with some
stewed fruit, this was absent at a neighbouring bookbinder's. My
father had therefore borrowed with my glad permission my copy of
the Lorton Bible for Schools, and it was in opening this that he
caught sight of the words `eighteenth edition' on the first
page.

That something had perturbed him was instantly apparent both to
my mother and myself, not only on account of the sudden tremor
that became visible in his left hand, but of the extraordinary
rapidity with which he read the appointed chapter, and the
verbal errors that consequently ensued. His subsequent
prayer. too, was so brief that we were scarcely upon our knees
before he had leapt to his feet again, and my mother and myself,
indeed, were still kneeling when he began to expound the idea
that had been vouchsafed to him.

`I have it,' he cried. `It's just been sent
to me. Chrysostom Lorton. That's the man. Eighteen editions -
that's what his Bible's gone into, and none of the authors with
any royalty rights!'

Nor was that all, for in addition, as I have said, to being the
elder brother of Mr Septimus Lorton, he was not only the
proprietor of the well-known Beulah, perhaps the most
popular of weekly religious journals, but his Peeping Up
Series for Children, devotional stories with coloured
illustrations, were familiar objects upon the nursery
bookshelves of every evangelical household. Moreover, he was the
medium through which were issued to the world many millions of
hortatory pamphlets, while the counters of his showroom in
Paternoster Row were heaped with every kind of Protestant
literature.

Such, then, was the man and such the
undertaking, not only Xtian, but lucrative, that by a chance
gesture, or so it might have seemed, now stood beckoning before
us; and it was only necessary, as my father justly said, for his
brother Septimus to do the rest. But would he? I was at first
doubtful. A weak man, he was also inert. And it did not, of
course, follow that because he used his brother's Bible he was
on intimate or influential terms with him. This much was clear,
however, that as the oldest pupil in his school, and in view of
the treatment that I had received from his subordinates, he was
under an obligation to me that neither my father nor myself
could morally allow ourselves to remit. And although for reasons
that I have already mentioned I had not advanced from my
original class, in the strictly ethical sense, by his own
admission, I was facile princeps.*

`A good boy,' said Mr Lorton, `a very, very
good boy, or shall we say, now that he has begun to shave, an
extremely admirable young man.'

This was upon the next evening, the penultimate evening of my
last term at school, when both my father and myself were sitting
in Mr Lorton's study for the purpose indicated above.

`It is useless to deny, of course,' my father had said, `that we
have been seriously disappointed in your school, or to suggest
that either my son or myself will be able to look back upon it
with approval. Nor can I profess to be wholly convinced as to
the necessity that you have so often explained to me of
promoting your pupils from class to class according to the
results of an examination. At the same time I am open-minded
enough to recognize that this method has the sanction of custom,
and to forbear from arraigning you for the consequently meagre
position that my son still occupies in your
establishment. Refusing to accept the standard, I can afford to
ignore its results. But of this, Mr Lorton, I am completely
confident - that if the index had been a moral or religious one,
my boy Augustus would have been second to none.'

Here my father paused for a moment to expectorate some phlegm,
and it was then that Mr Lorton used the words I have quoted.

`A good boy,' he said, as his wife entered the room, `a very,
very good boy, or shall we say, now that he has begun to shave,
an extremely admirable young man.'

A heavily-constructed woman of immense height, with prominent
cheek-bones and a bovine chin, it was generally understood that
Mr Lorton had selected her chiefly on account of her income. And
neither my father nor myself had ever been able to detect in her
the least sign of intelligence. Happily her intrusion, however,
was but momentary, and my father was able once more to proceed.

`I am obliged to you for your tribute,' he said, `and if, as you
must surely admit, my son's influence in your school has been
inestimable, you will the more readily agree with me in adopting
a reciprocal attitude towards the important question of his
future employment.'

As we both observed, Mr Lorton's expression changed a
little. But his voice retained its professional amiability.

`Oh, precisely,' he said, `precisely, although you must
understand, of course, that my influence is strictly limited.'

`Nevertheless,' said my father, `I am depending on its exertion
to the utmost boundary of its capacity. And I should be glad to
learn what openings you have in view for one to whom so
admittedly you are a debtor.'

At this point Mrs Lorton returned and took up a position on her
husband's left flank. Mr Lorton glanced at her before replying.

`Well, of course,' he said, `the problem is a somewhat difficult
one.'

`It would be easier,' said Mrs Lorton, `if we were an employment
agency.'

My father bowed.

`That I fully appreciate,' he said. `But I may at least assume,
I trust, that you have considered the problem.'

Again Mr Lorton glanced at his wife. But her slab-like face
remained unstirred.

`Well, I can hardly say,' he replied, `that as yet - er - we
have come to a definite conclusion. The moral qualities, you
see, though extremely valuable -'

Mr Chrysostom Lorton

`For ultimate salvation,' said my father, `they are essential.'

`Oh, of course,' said Mr Lorton, `of course. But in the
meantime, you know, and taken by themselves -' He paused for a
moment, and then his face brightened. `Have you ever thought,'
he said, `of making your son a missionary?'

A sort of sigh emanated from his wife.

`In a warm country,' she said, `a long way off'

Mr Lorton nodded.

`Healthy but remote,' he said, `where his moral enthusiasm could
have full play?'

`And where his personal appearance,' said Mrs Lorton, `could
scarcely fail to be such a protection to him?'

`Quite so,' said Mr Lorton. `I can conceive of no one eating
dear Augustus.'

Mrs Lorton smiled not unkindly.

`No one at all,' she said, `not even the most debased.'

Afterwards, as we discovered, these remarks lacked
sincerity. But for the moment we were not ungrateful. Colouring
with pleasure my father lifted his hand.

`I am again obliged to you,' he said, `for your tribute.'

Mr Lorton rose to his feet, evidently under the impression that
the interview had ended.

`Oh, not at all,' he said, `not at all, we are only too happy to
have been of any assistance.'

He moved towards the door. But my father motioned him
back. Somewhat less agreeably, I thought, he sat down again.
Allowing him a moment for this, my father then proceeded.

`Sensible as I am,' he said, `both of the justice, and I may say
discernment, of your suggestion, neither on financial nor
hygienic grounds am I able to entertain it; and indeed in its
main outlines the province of my son's future has already been
delineated for us. Second to none in my admiration of the noble
calling to which you have referred, surely they are nobler who
have created the means by which our missionaries subsist, and
who, of the wealth that their efforts have amassed, continue to
support these emissaries of religion. It is therefore to
Commerce that my son has been called, but in his first
introduction to this sacred field, we have only thought it right
to afford you the opportunity of being the possible instrument
of Providence.'

`I see,' said Mr Lorton. `That is very kind of you.'

`Take away the number,' said his wife, `that you first thought
of'

My father stared at her. But she appeared to be in a kind of
stupor, and it seemed more merciful to avert his eyes.

`It has, in fact, occurred to us,' he said, `or rather to me
- for it was to me personally that the idea was vouchsafed - that
your brother Chrysostom would be glad to hear that my son's
services were now available.'

For two or three moments Mr Lorton seemed to struggle for
breath. Then he made a meaningless sound like that of a small
animal.

`My brother C - Chrysostom?' he said at last. `But in what
capacity would you propose to offer your son?'

`Provided,' said my father, `that he gave sufficient
assurances. Of course we should look forward to an eventual
partnership.'

`And not to succession?' asked Mrs Lorton.

`Only in the event,' said my father, `of Mr Chrysostom's
decease.'

Mr Lorton wiped his forehead.

`That's most considerate,' he said, `most considerate.'

`Then perhaps I can rely,' said my father, `on your taking
immediate steps to arrange an interview for us with your
brother.'

But Mr Lorton shook his head.

`I'm very sorry,' he replied. `But that's quite impossible. For,
in the first place, my brother's business is a very complicated
and peculiar one, and in the second I regret to say that I have
absolutely no influence with him. In fact - er - well, to tell
the truth, any testimonial from me would be worse than useless.'

`Oh, worse,' said Mrs Lorton, `much worse. And besides, he has
no vacancies.'

For perhaps a quarter of a minute there was a dead silence, and
then very slowly my father rose to his feet.

`So I am to understand,' he said, `that you entirely refuse to
approach your brother on my son's behalf?'

With a pitiable gesture Mr Lotion shrugged
his shoulders, and the clock on the mantelpiece made an insolent
crowing noise. Trembling, but composed, my father swept it to
the floor together with several of its adjacent ornaments. Then
very quietly, but with increasing emphasis, he began to address
Mr Lorton. It was a painful task. It is always a painful task to
confront such a character with its own portrait. But it was a
duty from which, I am proud to say, I never knew my father to
shrink. Nor did he cease, on the present occasion, until the
last iota of it had been discharged, though such, as I have
shown, was his verbal economy that this was completed in fifteen
minutes. Then with his hand resting upon my shoulder, for he was
still the taller by two and a half inches, we turned our backs,
as we thought for ever, upon Mr and Mrs Septimus Lorton.

I have said for ever. But though, as the event proved, this was
a misjudgement on both our parts, it must not be assumed that
either my father or myself had lost his self-confidence. For the
moment, it was true, the path seemed obstructed, the vision
obscured, the end denied. But neither of us doubted that, by
means yet unrevealed, I should be brought at last to the
destined haven, although, as I must admit, neither of us foresaw
the tremendous speed with which this would be accomplished.

Such was the case, however, for when brooding
alone, upon the very next evening, in Greenwich Park, a familiar
voice pierced my consciousness and suddenly awakened my every
faculty. It was a warm but cloudy April dusk, and I was sitting
upon a seat under a large chestnut tree, when I began to hear
again, to my disgust and astonishment, the detested voice of Mr
Septimus Lorton. Rapidly withdrawing myself behind the tree, I
then observed him to be approaching my seat, evidently engrossed
in his conversation with a medium-sized female who was
accompanying him. For a moment, as was only natural, I resolved
to transport myself as far as possible from his
neighbourhood. But by some impulse - I realize now, of course,
that this could only have had one origin - I merely performed
perhaps a quarter of a revolution round the commanding trunk of
the chestnut tree. By this manoeuvre, not, I think, uningenious,
I thus concealed myself from his vision, while at the same time
conferring upon myself such possible advantages as might accrue
from observation. Nor was the event to prove me unjustified. For
hardly had he arrived at the seat that I had vacated when he
proceeded, accompanied by his companion, himself to sit down
upon it.

Being a slow runner my position now was one of the extremest
peril, and in the event of detection, I could only have relied
upon my happily exceptional vocal powers. But a closer
inspection of Mr Lorton's companion and something in the tones
in which he was addressing her combined in bidding me hold my
ground entirely regardless of personal danger. Indeed from the
beginning, I think, it was less the physical than the moral
contingencies that disturbed me. For I had instantly recognized,
to my profound discomfort, that the person accompanying him
was not Mrs Septimus Lorton. A woman of much slenderer
and more graceful build, she had a pink complexion and hazel
eyes, with a rather large but conceivably alluring mouth, and a
considerable quantity of yellowish hair. Her name, it appeared,
was Nina, the i being pronounced as if it were an e, and it was
quickly apparent to me that, for the first time, I was in the
presence of the gravest human vice. Nor have I ever, perhaps,
entirely recovered from the enormous shock of that
discovery. For though I had been aware, of course, from my
studies of Holy Scripture, that such things had occurred in the
Middle East, and had even deduced from contemporary newspapers
their occasional survival in the British Islands, I had never
dreamed it possible that here, in a public park in the Xtian
London of my own experience, a married man could thus openly sit
with his arm round a female who was not his wife.

Trembling all over, I was afraid for two or three moments that I
was about to relapse into unconsciousness, and that I did not do
so I can only attribute to the amazing discovery that
followed. For no sooner had Mr Lorton taken his seat than the
petrifying fact became manifest that his fellow-criminal was not
only married herself, but was actually the wife of his brother
Chrysostom.* Afterwards, as was inevitable perhaps, I
utterly broke down, but not until I had made full notes of their
conversation, learned that Mrs Chrysostom was supposed to be out
shopping, and observed them kiss one another several
times. Then, pale and distraught, blinded with tears, and
scarcely indeed able to suppress my sobs, I hurried home, and
within less than an hour had buried my face in my father's
waistcoat.

`Oh, father,' I cried, `father,' and though he had
misinterpreted my convulsions, I shall never forget the
tenderness with which he signalled to my mother to fetch a basin
as quickly as possible. Nor was he less sympathetic when I had
succeeded in convincing him that my paroxysms were spiritual
rather than gastric, for smoothing my hair with his unoccupied
hand, he at once readjusted my head to its former position.

`Oh, it is,' said my father. `It is. Do you remember those
beautiful words of David's, ``the righteous shall rejoice when
he seeth the vengeance: he shall wash his feet in the blood of
the wicked''?'

`Not only do I remember them' I said, `but had you not quoted
them, I should certainly have done so myself.'

`We'll wash them tonight,' said my father. `Put on your cap. No,
it would perhaps be better to wear your bowler,' and five
minutes later we were standing once more on the front-door step
of Hopkinson House.